when there's nothing left to burn
by lettereyecolor
Summary: "And so now she sits on the floor next to his bed, her hand resting on his arm, waiting for Ian to wake up." The aftermath of Mandy finally finding out about Ian and Mickey.


So, if you've read my other stuff, you know about my girl crush on Mandy Milkovich. I love her but seriously. She's so oblivious. This was written really quickly, so any glaring mistakes, please point them out. Thanks!

* * *

when there's nothing left to burn

Mandy waited a few days before finally heading over to the house with her tail in between her legs, so to speak.

She knocked on the door early in the morning because she'd practically been living there for months and she knew someone had to be up and around, even if it was fucking self-righteous Fiona Gallagher.

She crossed her arms and when the door opened and she saw Lip on the other side, her stomach dropped and she felt like she might throw up. Of fucking course. The universe clearly hated her, and honestly, she hated herself a lot more these days, so why the fuck not.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Mandy sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"Ian."

She hoped her message came across in that one word. That she wasn't there for Lip, that she knew the two of them were damaged beyond repair, something she was still trying hard to come to terms with. But she also knew she had fucked up one of the most important relationships in her life and that's why she was there. For Ian.

Lip took a deep breath in and out of his nose and then nodded. He stepped aside and she walked through the front door of a house that was so familiar to her, more familiar than her own. But she knew she was merely a guest now. A neighbor stopping in and not allowed to stay forever like she had wanted to a few short days ago.

She left her backpack by the door and took the stairs two at a time, watching for the places with creaks and groans with practiced ease. When she entered Ian's room, she saw he was sprawled on top of his covers, head turned toward the wall. She did a quick scan of the room, making sure he was alone. When she saw that it was empty, save for Ian, she entered and shut the door quick before making her way over to him.

She sat on the floor next to Ian's bed and rested her shaking hand on top of his arm. He didn't wake, just turned his head in his sleep, now facing her. She looked at him, at the dark circles under his eyes, the frown lines in between his eyebrows and the scowl his lips were pulled into and for probably the millionth time that week, she felt like a fucking idiot and a failure.

After the wedding reception from hell, she'd sobered up fast. Ian's words had helped her along and she sat underneath the El in her fucking tacky blue dress, chain smoking. Ian's words before he'd been dragged out of there by Lip had kept replaying over and over in her head and she felt like such a shit.

"_You try sitting on your ass while the person you love…no I'm sorry, the guy you've been fucking gets married…"_

The person he loves.

The guy he's been fucking.

The person he _loves._

Mickey.

She felt like such an asshole when she remembered all the bullshit she told him about the baby and the wedding and the all the fucking girls Mickey's screwed. Why the fuck didn't she catch on? Like, really. Mandy thinks about all of this and all of the goddamn clues that were staring her in the face the whole damn time.

"_I wasn't in on the courting. Or the fucking."_

Mandy snorts. No fucking shit.

When morning comes, she dragged her tired ass home and when she walked in, she found Mickey in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee, and slowly turning the gold band that now rested on his ring finger.

She slammed the door shut.

Mickey glared at her. "The fuck? Keep it down. They're all passed out still. Let's keep it that way."

She just stared at him, incapable of comprehending anything other than what she had caught on to less that 12 hours ago.

"What have you done?" She doesn't yell. She doesn't run over and start hitting him. She just looks at him and he looks at her. She tries to convey to him that yes, she knows. Fucking finally, she knows. And that she wishes she had caught on earlier to… fuck. To what? To tell him she doesn't care because she doesn't. To tell him they have more in common now than just their hair and eyes and fucked up heads and the fact that they like to fuck boys. Because now they have Ian Gallagher in common and this part of her, Ian's part of her, is probably the biggest and brightest thing she has and she feels like a fucking failure for letting this destroy him.

She can tell when Mickey realizes she knows. His eyes close briefly, but when he opens them again, there's a softness there and he rubs at his lip in that nervous way that used to endear her brother to her, but now all she wants is to hit him and for him to talk to her. To tell her he has some way of making this right. Some way of putting Ian's pieces back together. Because for the first time in a long time Mandy has no clue how to face Ian and get him to talk to her about his shit. This isn't homework, or forgetting to meet him for a movie, or being pissed that he's fucking around with some old guy. All of that shit she has quick fixes for. All of those, she knows how to get through with Ian because those are problems best friends know how to deal with. She doesn't know how to deal with this because she wasn't fucking paying attention. Ian knew everything about her. He knew what made her happy, what made her pissed, what made her laugh so hard, she would start crying. He knew all of the shit with Lip because he paid attention and he cared enough to ask her about it. Mandy felt her throat close tightly because she had never even fucking bothered. Ian had told her this guy he was seeing was so deep in the closet, so she'd dropped it. She let it go and she let it get Ian and she let it fuck him up so badly, she wasn't sure what she'd find in the aftermath.

And as she stands there by her front door, with Mickey moving toward her, she has to bite her lip and fight herself not to cry.

"Mandy…" Mickey's voice is quiet and her hands lift up to his shoulders and she stares him in the eyes.

"What have we done?"

Mickey leans his forehead against hers like they used to, when they were young and dumb enough to believe that their life, their family, wasn't forever, wasn't going to change them and ruin them. That together, the two youngest Milkoviches would make it out and be better people than either of their parents. That she and Mickey would end up better than all of them and that they would forget what it felt like to be cast aside in favor of booze and drugs. And she realizes, looking at Mickey's tired eyes and feeling the headache from all of the alcohol she consumed last night because she couldn't deal with her own shit, they were exactly like their parents. Constantly forgetting and taking for granted the people they claim to love and then getting fucked up on alcohol and drugs to forget and deal with it. But they never deal with it. They just let it all burn until there's nothing fucking left.

Mickey takes her out to the back porch and the two of them smoke and he tells her about Ian. When he's done, she hugs her knees to her chest.

"Do you love him?"

He's silent, blowing smoke out into the morning and she knows what his silence means. Loving Ian is just another thing they have in common, and this one makes her smile for a split second.

"You should talk to him."

Mickey laughs bitterly. "Talking has never been our strong point. Besides," he lifts his left hand and wriggles his ring finger at her. "I'm sure as shit he doesn't want to see me with this on."

"Oh Mickey," she sighs, everything hitting her in waves over and over again. "What have we done?"

Over the next few days, she kept her distance from the Gallaghers. She wanted time to get her head on right, to get a fucking grip, and to give Ian some time. Some time away from Milkoviches who just take and take and take and don't give anything at all in return.

And so now she sits on the floor next to his bed, her hand resting on his arm, waiting for Ian to wake up.

* * *

Thank you for reading!


End file.
